


Man In The Mirror

by WhisperOfTheDay



Category: Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: (and now i'm dead), (and this fic hurts so much more now t-t ), (written and posted before i watched uprising), Bonding, Brother-Sister Relationships, Character Study, Gen, Light Angst, maybe just a little bit vent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-23
Updated: 2018-03-23
Packaged: 2019-04-05 13:29:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14045265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhisperOfTheDay/pseuds/WhisperOfTheDay
Summary: Mutual support, some explanation behind tattoos, and the art of (mis)understanding.





	Man In The Mirror

**Author's Note:**

> (Better read after my fic [Vibrant](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14048388/chapters/32359230))

Something snaps in the little device he has been tinkering with to keep his hands occupied, trying to fix it but actually only breaking it further. A small, but probably vital bit of it comes off and springs towards the mat, falling near Mako's leg.  
  
  
She strengthens, smoothly spinning the wooden stick between her hands, and bowns to empty space in front of her.  
  
The sun must have already risen, her shift is about to start, and 'two hours of workout to keep in shape' can be ticked off today's to do list.  
  
She glances at the scientist, who, on any other day would have already been, if not applauding, then praising her for being such a cool fighter, but now is busy quietly listing all the various German curses.  
  
He has walked all the way down to this remote part of the facility, in order to be alone, escape everything, and at the same time to talk to her. Precisely to talk _to_ , since he is well aware that during fighting practice she is focused on her body and mind only, yet it doesn't mean she can't hear him. It's not the first time he uses her as a passive.. shrink, kind of. He has admitted several times that just sharing lifts some weight off the chest, and encouraged her to do the same with what bothers her. "That's what buddies are for," he said.  
  
For the first time since he joined her on the training grounds an hour and a half ago she reacts to his presence and engages in conversation.  
  
"Newt, you shouldn't take it personal-"  


"How can I not take it personal?! He keeps calling me names and- and keeps saying what I love is _shit_ , and how do I not take this personal? I'm fu- _u_ _gh!_ - I'm _done_! I'm sick of it."

  
He's gesticulating, speaking in raised voice, and has hunched into the brown wall. He is distressed and offended, and small.  
  
His figure almost dissolves in the vast expanse of the Kwoon.  
  
Mako walks towards him. "It's just- for people like him it's hard to sociate with, work with and.. pretty much _stand_ guys like you," she reaches the end of the mat and sets the stick on concrete floor, wrapping her arms around it and leaning on it carefully.  
  
Newt raises a brow, an expression which always puts a smile on her face, but now has dark shades to it.  


"What, you know him?" he murmurs incredulously.

  
"Yes. Liste-"  
  
"So why- wait _what? Yes?_ "  
  
Mako gives him a look of reproach for cutting in, but speaks in soft voice, "I've met him several times when I was a kid, he was really nice to me."  
  
"It doesn't mean anything!"  
  
"It _does_!"  
  
"Why the heck are you speaking up for him?" they are shouting at each other, and she doesn't feel bad for it, and he looks hurt.  
  
"Because! You can't keep blaming people for being who they are! Newt, I know you! I know how you get! You're eccentric, you can be loud and impudent and- _no_ , don't interrupt me! You should be more patient with people-"  
  
"I don't wanna be patient! It's not my style!"  
  
"Not everything has to end with your style, Newt!!"  
  
"It has! It's- It is like that with me! And always will! You don't understand, you'd just- you just don't."  
  
That is a card Mako never thought he'd pull on her. They shared the special kind of bond, always knowing or at least suspecting what the other was up to, because they are so alike in many ways, and at the same time different, they balance each other, help each other feel normal (or, rather, okay with being not quite normal) and appreciated when nobody else can. Over the few years they've known each other they established a wonderful rapport, became true best friends.  
  
Or she allowed herself to think so.  
  
Mako can't help but let the hurt and disappointment show in her features. She sees Newt deflate and shamefully avert his eyes, jaw working, trying to find words. Her accusing voice sounds childishly offended (being herself around Newt was so yeasy, and it's gonna be long before that habbit dissipates) as she starts, "Whatever you mean, you haven't even tried to explain-"  
  
"I made a promise to myself."  
  
Their eyes meet, and his gaze displays something so utterly exhausted, it extinguishes the fire of the argument. After a moment of making sure she won't interrupt, he continues. "Long ago, before all that, before the war. That I would not be changed. That I would not bend under the circumstances, under the crowd's judging looks."  
  
Newt abruptly extends his right arm out, and points at the colourful inked skin with his left hand, eyes still locked on hers.  
  
"You know what these really are?" Mako knows she isn't supposed to reply to that in any way, so she doesn't. They never actually discussed his tattoos much, she guesses he thinks it's a touchy subject. And it was, up to some point, but it was her friendship with Newt that made her more indurable and tolerant.

When he got a new one, unable to help himself he'd boast about it, she'd ask for him to let her see it, and would admire them like pieces of art they were.  
  
"They are reminders that the world won't change me."  
  
But it turns out they were much more.  
  
"Among.. other stuff, like it looking super awesome and unique and... you know, drives some dudes wild.."  
  
They both smile, the last bit of angry tension slipping away, and he looks down on his hands, folding them together, closer to his chest.  
  
  
"This is an anchor. I have to-... I have to stay true to what I am, what- what I wanna be. I don't want to change." He lets go of the lucky skull ring on his pinky he kept picking at, and guides his arms down carelessly.  
  
"And I won't shape myself to fit other people's whims."  
  
The seriousness his face obtains is so uncharacteristic, it might have been unnerving to those who only see him as an obsessed man-child with genius level intellect.  
  
He leans back on the wall, switching his focuse back towards the broken thing he still holds, frowning and obviously still troubled.  
  
No indication is given as to whether or not Mako's expected to say anything, which is good since she doesn't know what to say, so she goes to grab her boots and sits on the edge of the mat, putting them on and lacing them up.  
  
She doesn't want to think about the fact that she almost rejected Newt's friendship the second he blew this bottled up steem out. She won't admit to it, and she'll make up for it in some way.  
  
She's reckless and quick-tempered, and she has to watch it. Last thing Mako wants is to hurt somebody she cares about because she has anger issues.  
  
"It's already 23 after."  
  
"It's seven hundred and twenty three, Newt."  
  
"How is this convenient? It's freaking long, a kaiju'll reach the coastline by the time you finish sayin' what time is on the clock."  
  
"I thought you'd get used to it by now."  
  
"Won't on principle alone, it's dumb."  
  
She snickers, yet the feeling of unease at not being of much help with his worries remains. Mako rises her head to see Newt walking away, his shuffling footsteps too quiet to pick up. Startled, she calls after him before she can stop herself.  
  
His expression is unreadable, which is also extremely uncharacteristic, and yet..  
  
Now she's just obliged to say something wise, cause it's kinda like the thing people do in those kinds of situations. That something will have to be the thought that has shot through her brain while he was explaining the actual meaning of the marks on his skin.  
  
"You two might have more in common than you'd like."  
  
  
  
Hands shoved in pockets and head bowed, he disappears down the corridor.  
  
Minutes later she'll realise that was a wrong thing to say. However true it might be.

**Author's Note:**

> Change scares me. Losing myself is my fear number one.  
> When my brain compared me to a person I dislike greatly, the kind of person I don't want to be, and found several common traits, my reaction was.. poor.
> 
> Thank you for reading- any form of feedback is deeply appreciated ♡


End file.
